


You're in my head (you're in my blood)

by MorganBartonRomanoff



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25765564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganBartonRomanoff/pseuds/MorganBartonRomanoff
Summary: A collection of ficlets I posted on Tumblr gathered in the same place1. In the kitchen + Missing the other (Clintasha)2. In the rain + Confessing feelings (Clintasha)3. In a bar + Celebration (Clintasha)4. (4) An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose (Clintasha)
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	1. In the kitchen + Missing the other (Clintasha)

**Author's Note:**

> Currently [taking prompts](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/ohwriteiforgot) from these lists:
> 
> [Kissing prompt list](https://ohwriteiforgot.tumblr.com/post/623726404419387392/a-kissing-prompt-list)  
> [50 Types of Kisses](https://ohwriteiforgot.tumblr.com/post/625092460348162048/50-types-of-kisses-writing-prompts)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kissing prompt list](https://ohwriteiforgot.tumblr.com/post/623726404419387392/a-kissing-prompt-list)   
> 

Natasha was in the kitchen at three in the morning for two very simple reasons. One, the dog had taken over the bed hours ago, and two, she couldn’t sleep anyway. So she’d found herself making tea in the middle of the night, phone just at an arm’s reach, in case they called her in for a mission. No other reason.

It definitely wasn’t because Clint had been sent to Moldova, by himself, while she recovered from a shoulder injury. It wasn’t because he was supposed to be home two days ago. It wasn’t because she was worried or missed him.

No, it was probably the full moon. The windows in his bedroom – _their_ bedroom, he always insisted, _their_ apartment – were directly in the moonlight and no curtain could stop it from keeping her awake.

That’s why she’d retreated to the kitchen while Lucky made himself comfortable on the soft duvet.

A gentle tapping on the window behind her had her drawing the gun underneath the counter in a jerky motion, jostling her shoulder. Liho stared her down, blinking owlishly, tail swishing. Natasha sighed and let the cat in.

“Are we expecting uninvited guests?” a voice from the kitchen door startled her. She had half a mind not to point the gun at his head.

“Just you,” she answered, softer than she’d intended. Then, more accusingly, “You’re late.”

He smiled and dropped his duffle next to the passing cat, who hissed in dismay. Clint paid Liho no mind. He stalked forward, wrapping Natasha in his arms, lifting her off the ground, face buried in her neck. She held on just as tightly.

“I missed you,” he muttered, finally letting her find her footing anew.

“I missed you too,” she whispered, caressing his bruised cheekbone with a thumb. Clint rested his forehead on hers with his eyes half-closed, enjoying the feeling of her hair, her skin, _her_ , underneath his touch.

He leaned in, ever so slightly, and she followed immediately. Their lips brushed gently, a reminder of what they’d both been longing for so long. Then firmer, colliding like a bullet and a glass wall, shattering into each other with an emotion neither of them was quite ready to put into words.

They were forced apart when the dog came bounding at them with happy cries, almost miscalculating Clint’s legs and ramming into the fridge.

Natasha sighed as Clint bent down to greet Lucky.

“You need to train your dog better,” she admonished, but there was a mischievous glint in her eye. “If he takes the entire bed,” she started with a raised eyebrow, “where are _we_ supposed to go?”

That night, they let Lucky sleep on the couch.


	2. In the rain + Confessing feelings (Clintasha)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kissing prompt list](https://ohwriteiforgot.tumblr.com/post/623726404419387392/a-kissing-prompt-list)   
> 

The soft pitter-patter of the rain on the roof of the car was the only sound filling the silence. During the entire ride from the Triskelion, the two of them hadn’t said a thing, too riled up to even look at each other.

To say that the mission hadn’t gone according to plan would be putting it mildly. It had been a disaster.

Neither of them had expected there to be children in that lab. It had brought up bad memories, chilled them to the bones. It had thrown the entire mission off balance. It had thrown _them_ off balance. The explosives had gone off too early. They’d barely had enough time to get all the kids out. They’d barely made it out alive. Natasha’s ears still rang with every bump on the road.

She’d only let Clint drive because of the mild concussion. She was out of the car before he’d even killed the engine.

“Nat,” he called out before he followed her, barely a step behind. He knew everything going through her head, knew how all-consuming it could be. He couldn’t let her succumb to it. He was so tired of seeing her suffer, of watching her come apart every once in a while by a more severe mission. “Nat,” he said again, more insistently this time, and reached for her hand.

“How many,” she hissed as she spun, ripping her arm away, already soaked to her bones. “How many were there that we didn’t get to in time? How many did we kill?”

“This is _not_ your fault.”

“No, it’s both of ours. _We_ did this, Clint.”

He stared into her eyes, into the pain and desperation, into the anger, the sorrow, the conflict raging there. He understood her perfectly. He hated it too. But she knew as well as he did that that was the way things worked. Sometimes there were casualties. She looked at him pleadingly, as if reading his mind.

“ _Children_.” He nodded as rain fell into their eyes. They blinked away the water. Rain or something else – what did it matter? Natasha shook her head. “We should have split up.”

Clint looked at her like she was crazy. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“We could have covered more ground, we could have saved _more_ –“

“No,” he snapped. “We would have died too. And I will never let that happen, as long as it’s up to me.”

“Why do you think you have a say in wether I live or die,” she growled as she got into his personal space, clothes sticking to her skin, hair dark in the greyness of the sky.

“I don’t,” he shrugged,” but I have a say in wether or not I do everything in my power to keep you alive. And if I fail, well… let’s hope that never happens.”

“Why does it matter so much? They’ll just assign you a new partner, and you’ll forget about me in no time.”

Pain lingered in between them, crashed around them like the rain seeping from above. He took her hands in his again.

“I can’t explain to you how messed everything you just said was,” he breathed. “But I don’t want another partner. I don’t want to forget about you. I never want to forget about you.” He too a step toward her, shortening the distance between their bodies. “I can’t imagine a world without you, Nat. I love you.”

She sighed and leaned her forehead against his. “I love you too, Clint. You’re my best friend, but –“

“No,” he interrupted her again, voice barely above a whisper. “ _I love you._ ”

He felt the second her breath hitched. He felt the tension in her shoulders, the beat of her heart. He’d been holding in that truth for a long time. Might as well be out with it. There was no time like the present, especially in their line of work. They could die any day. And he was done waiting for a sign that she felt the –

He’d closed his eyes, unable to watch the rejection in hers. He didn’t see her go up on the tips of her toes. He didn’t see her lean in.

The kiss was soft, surprising, barely more than a brush of their lips. It was… different than anything either of them had experienced before, different than the hard passion or the senseless obligation of the cover.

It meant something.

It meant everything.

Natasha put a palm to Clint’s cheek and smiled gently, though the sadness still lingered.

“I love you too,” she repeated, eyes boring into his. He breathed out a deep sigh, heavy with relief. Then he leaned in again.


	3. In a bar + Celebration (Clintasha)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kissing prompt list](https://ohwriteiforgot.tumblr.com/post/623726404419387392/a-kissing-prompt-list)   
> 

The atmosphere around her is tense. She’s surrounded by stale, cheap beer and loud, testosterone-filled meat heads. It’s not the best situation she could have found herself in, but it’s definitely far from the worst. Regardless, she is this close to getting up and just walking out the door.

She can’t remember why she’s agreed to this in the first place. It’s not like she owes Barton anything.

Okay, maybe she owes him a little. But not enough to subject herself to the literal torture of a crappy bar in the middle of nowhere Jersey.

Natasha glares at the back of his head as he leans across the counter to fetch the bartender. He turns around to grin at her like he knows exactly what’s going through her head.

They are celebrating five years of partnership, apparently. It’s a big deal, apparently. She doesn’t know. She’s never had a partner before, after all.

She senses the man headed her way before she sees him. It’s years of training that allow her to know her surroundings even without paying too much attention. She’s always paying attention, though.

She has been paying attention since she walked in five minutes ago right after Clint texted to ask where she was. She was paying attention when she walked past three guys whose eyes lingered on her just a bit too long. She was paying attention when she sat down at the booth right in Barton’s line of vision.

The man is bald and stinks of sweat, his forehead is shiny and he’s not nearly as tall as he thinks he is. He leers down at her and she doesn’t even try to suppress a scowl.

Natasha throws Clint one last look, only to see he’s still trying to push through the crowd to get to the bartender. She takes a deep breath, already done with this celebration of theirs. She’s really not in the mood, not for cheap drinks and not for assholes who’ve decided to take their chance with her.

She doesn’t even let him open his mouth. His beady eyes are saying enough.

“Not interested.” Her tone is final, and her patience is wearing thin. She tries to think of all the ways Barton can make it up to her and there aren’t that many on her list.

The guy can’t take a refusal, apparently. He doesn’t move and his face stretches in a disturbing sneer. “Come now,” he starts and reaches to put a hand on the table in front of her and she has to stop herself from breaking every bone up to his wrist. “I’m sure you and I can have… some fun.”

She is going to make Barton suffer. A lot. She swears, he’s never had worse timing in his entire life. And he always has terrible timing, so that’s saying something.

She doesn’t need him to sweep in and save the day. As if. She just doesn’t want to cause a scene. She’s had a day as it is. She doesn’t need a bar fight as the cherry on top.

She pushes up to her feet to stand to her full height, as little as it might be. The man smirks, and she all but mirrors his expression. He’s made a mistake. He’s underestimated her. She tenses, like the wire of Clint’s bow, and she’s just about to pounce when there’s a thud on the table next to her and Barton comes to stand right beside her.

“Hey, babe, who’s your new friend?” He wraps a protective arm around her shoulders and she breathes in deeply as to not maim him.

“He was offering me some fun,” she shrugged instead. “But I think my kind of ‘fun’ strongly differs from his.” She glares at the stranger and she has no doubts that her partner’s face is a perfect copy of hers.

“Sorry, pal,” Clint chuckles mockingly. “You’ll have to go look somewhere else. She’s had a bad day. She won’t play nice if you push it.”

The two of them look threatening enough on their own, she’s aware. It’s worse when they’re together. She’s seen the intimidated faces of agents throughout the Triskelion enough times. He’s out of their faces in an instant.

Barton turns to her and she can’t be too mad at him when he looks at her with that expression – all enthusiastic and bright and hopeful.

She rolls her eyes and kisses him, chaste and sweet, enough for when they’re in public.

“Happy five years,” he grins and hands her a shot of vodka. The taste isn’t as bad as she expects.

And the night isn’t as tense as she has predicted. Nothing is tense when they finally get home well past midnight.


	4. An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose (Clintasha)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #4 from [50 Types of Kisses](https://ohwriteiforgot.tumblr.com/post/625092460348162048/50-types-of-kisses-writing-prompts)

Natasha hated galas. She hated having to dress up in expensive gowns she’d only ever wear once, balanced on a pair of lethally sharp heels. She hated having to find imaginative places to stash her weapons. She hated being dependent on her looks rather than her skills. She hated most of the people there – the ways they looked at her, the ways they spoke, the ways none of them gave a single flying fuck about the rest of the world aside from the part _they_ owned.

She hated having to play an air-headed arm candy or a stuck-up heiress. She usually couldn’t wait to be done with the assignment and go home to change. Except, usually, the assignment consisted of either bring in or taking out a mark. This time, she and Barton were stuck with a recon mission. Perhaps Coulson had thought they needed a break after the week they’d had in Brazil. But in all honesty, Natasha would have rather gone back for another round.

She snatched a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and turned back to glowering at the rest of the guests. Keeping face and all. Barton’s fingers twitched on her hip as he chuckled.

“You’re being so hostile tonight, honey.”

“You could have come by yourself,” she gritted out with an eye roll. “I don’t see what you need me for.”

Her partner snorted. “Are you kidding? I need you just to function.” Natasha raised a sceptical eyebrow. While he wasn’t completely wrong, the context made him sound way too cheesy. Clint grinned and she prepared herself for his following words. “I could never live without you.”

“Okay, Romeo,” she laughed as she pressed herself closer to him and turned in his hold to whisper in his ear, attracting the attention of several pairs of eyes. “I can’t see anything from here. Let’s go dance.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Come on, we won’t be the only ones,” she pointed out and he turned to see a few other couples already on the dance floor.

Clint grimaced, but let her pull him long nonetheless. They were playing tango, out of anything. Couldn’t she have waited for the waltz?

He drew her to him, as close as he could, bodies flushed against one another, and let his muscle memory take over. They hadn’t practised in a long time, and while Natasha would always remain perfect when it came to every part of spycraft, he needed to refresh his skills every so often.

Natasha relaxed in her partner’s arms, eyes alert and mind at the ready, scanning for heir mark as her surroundings spun and changed every second.

“Do a hook,” she whispered in his ear, and Clint tried not to shudder at the way her breath tickled every nerve in his body. He timed there movements expertly with the music in a perfected combination. He pushed her back and pulled her in again, hiking her leg up his thigh and lifting her to spin once.

“You’re just showing off now,” he chuckled and she just smirked.

“Maybe.”

“At least you’re not wearing that tight dress this time,” he noted as he spun her around again. “That was a pain to move around in.”

“Tell me about it.” They did another sweep of the dance floor. “Call me crazy,” Natasha started, “but I think Coulson sent us on a wild goose chase.”

Clint nodded. “Yeah.”

“But why,” she frowned.

He twirled her, wrapping both arms around her waist to  glue their bodies together just as the last notes reverberated throughout the spacious marble room. She collided with him, the impact drawing their heads so close together their lips brushed. Both of them took in a breath, oxygen mixed with the scent of the other.

“Because I asked him to,” Clint admitted, eyes lowered not to hers, but to her lips. She saw him gulp, as if gathering courage. She surged up, closing the distance between them properly, palms pressed firmly against his chest. It still surprised her how hesitant he was to kiss her in public, despite being together for so long.

She would  scold him later, she decided.  Without a mission and a mark, she might even enjoy playing these fools. She had her idiot arm candy by her side, after all. The night couldn’t get too bad.


End file.
